The World Is Now Behind You, Home Is Ahead
by Phoenix-Rising29
Summary: How far would you go to reclaim your homeland? Would you travel across the world, face down trolls, and orcs and wargs? Even a dragon? What then would you do if you did reclaim your homeland, only to be met with an army, the likes of which haven't been seen in the world for nearly an age? Would you fight? Or would you watch others fight and die in your place?
1. Chapter 1

****DISCLAIMER:**** The Hobbit and all of the canon characters do not belong to me in any way. They are owned exclusively by J. R. R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson and those who own the rights to The Hobbit. The story lines of the movies for The Hobbit are owned exclusively by MGM, New Line Cinema, WingNut Films and Peter Jackson. I only own my original characters and original events.

* * *

 ** **Chapter One****

"Do ya know which roads ta take, lass?" A deep, booming voice sounded behind me as I packed up the last of my things into my trusty, well-worn leather pack.

Chuckling, I answered, "Aye, uzbadê, I do. I've been travelin' fer years now, I know which roads ta take and which ta not take."

After buckling the worn brass buckle of my pack closed, I turned to look upon the dwarf who had taken me in for the last few years and given me a home. Dáin Ironfoot was a great dwarf, a great lord, and a great warrior too. There were few in all of Middle Earth quite like him – elf, man or dwarf alike. He had a temper that would rival any summer storm, and yet he had a gentle soul to those he held near and dear to his heart. None but his kin and closest companions knew this side, and I was lucky to find myself among those few who could say Dáin was kind and walk away with my head still on my shoulders.

"Aye, I know. The 'eart weighs 'eavy at the thought of ya leavin' s'all, lass. You 'ave been 'ere long enough ta be one of me own, but I know ya 'eart yearns fer the road and I will not keep ya 'ere," Stepping further into my room, the Lord of the Iron Hills himself looked upon me with warm brown eyes from beneath thick bushy ginger eyebrows, taking me in one last time before I set off west.

"Tank ya, uzbadê, fer all ya 'ave done fer me these last few years. I couldna asked fer a better place to stay then amongst me own kin. It 'as been a long time since I 'ave been 'round fellow dwarves, let alone me own kin, and I cannae tank ye enough fer takin' me in like ya 'ave," I spoke warmly, stepping forward to place a sturdy hand upon Dáin's left shoulder and grasping it firmly, the great and slightly taller dwarf returning the gesture with a firm right hand upon my own left shoulder.

"No need ta tank me, lassie. Tis the least I could do fer ma own kin. Besides... Ya father woulda 'ad me 'ead with one a 'is axes if I 'ad turned ye away all those years ago. Not ta mention, Línora woulda 'ad me 'ead too with 'er bloody sword," He grumbled as his eyebrows furrowed slightly at the thought of his angry cousin and wife.

My room fell silent for a few moments, the two of us just staring at each other before we both let out deep hearty laughs at the thought of the Great Dáin Ironfoot facing down an angry cousin and wife and being horribly outnumbered in that fight. Once our laughs settled down the two of us stood there staring fondly at each other, remembering all that had passed over the years before Dáin continued, "Before ya leave, kandith, I 'ave some gifts ta give ya."

Before I could even protest, Dáin had pulled away and walked back towards the thick wooden door of my room and opened it, allowing a small stream of dwarves to flow through, each with a cloth bound bundle in their arms. Each of these dwarves paid me no mind, simply walking to my freshly made bed and laying each bundle down gently upon the bear furs before moving back out of the room, nodding respectfully to their lord as they passed.

"Uzbadê, what are these?"

"Oh enough of the 'uzbadê,' lass! I told ya years ago not ta call me that anymore. Ya father would 'ave me 'ead if he saw me let ya leave my lands so ill equipped and ya know Línora's been frettin' about ya since ya got 'ere. Let's face it, kandith, those clothes of yers 'ave seen far better days and ya need more weapons lass, ya got so few."

"I've got plenty o' weapons! Ma battle axes and warhammer 'ave served me well enough since I left 'ome."

"No need ta git angry, lass. I know yer battle axes and warhammer 'ave served ya well, but ya need other weapons. Go on, take a look," Dáin stepped forward and nudged me gently towards my bed. Pausing to stare curiously at him for a moment, I turned towards my bed and began picking through the bundles, only to be surprised with each bundle I unraveled.

"Dáin, I-I cannae take all o' these."

"Aye, ya certainly can and will, lass. These were all made fer ya. I 'ad me best seamstresses make yer new clothes, Línora made sure they kept the same wolf's fur on yer new tunic and boots don't ya worry. And I 'ad me best smithy's make these throwin' axes and daggers fer ya. Ye cannae keep waitin' fer ya enemies ta git in close ta ya lass, it's too dangerous," The Lord of the Iron Hills said, coming to stand at my right side and clasping my shoulder firmly in his hand once more.

Nodding, I turned my head to look up at him, "Khamnêl, Dáin, khamnêl. I couldna asked fer better partin' gifts."

"No, no ya couldna. I'll leave ya ta dress and pack everythin' lass. I'll be waitin' fer ya down by the front gates. Come and find me when ye are ready," Nodding to the lord, I watched his large form leave through the door, the bright ginger hues of his hair made all the more brighter by the roaring of the fire in the fireplace inside my room.

Turning back to my bed I began to pull out my new clothes, setting them out so that I could change into them. After quickly undressing to just my underclothes, I pulled on my new thick grey woolen socks over my feet before slipping into my new brown breeches and then slipping my feet into my new dark brown leather knee-high boots which were lined with thick light grey wolf's fur. Quickly pulling on my newly spun olive green undershirt – which had sleeves that stopped just above my elbows – I slip into my new olive green tunic as well, tying the four leather ties up the front closed, doing my best to hurry before I cool off too quickly. It's only February, but even deep in the Iron Hills with all the forges burning and the fire roaring from the hearth in my room it's still quite cold in the northern mountains during this time of year.

Before slipping into my new light leather armour, I took in the intricate dwarvish print along the upper portion of my tunic. The dwarvish print was stitched in faded gold thread and stopped just below the thick light grey wolf's fur that completely covered my shoulders and I couldn't help but lightly trace some of the design with my fingers, marveling at the stitching. My eyes widened in shock when I noticed the dwarvish designs were actually the runes of my father's house. Of course Lady Línora would see to that being added, she always was fond of the thought of carrying on the legacy of our fathers; not to say that I wasn't fond of this either, Línora and I were much the same in this aspect. Looking over my spare undershirt and tunic, I noticed that she had had the seamstresses stitch my father's runes into them as well.

Shaking my head gently at Línora's gesture, I moved onto my armour next. Slipping my leather breast plate on over my head, I then set to tying the two leather ties along each of my sides and buckling the two brass buckles that rested along either of my collarbones, effectively securing my breast plate to my body. I then adjusted the darker grey wolf's fur that ran along the upper parts of my arms from beneath the leather pauldrons of my armour so that the fur sat more comfortably over my tunic and undershirt. Once the fur along my arms was settled and comfortable, I set to smoothing out the soft thick fur of my collar as well, which came out from beneath the neck of my breast plate and wrapped completely around the lower half of my neck. Pausing my fusing over the fur, my eyes settled on the strange, yet intricate design that had been pressed into the leather over my upper chest, stopping just beneath the fur collar. Running my hand gently over the imprinted design, I could not help but wonder at the incredible work that the smithy's had done on my armour. It never ceases to amaze me the skill and talent of us dwarves when it comes to making crafts of any kind.

Pulling myself from my musings, I leaned over to my bed and picked up the first of two thick leather belts and secured it around my midsection, taking careful note to pull tight the buckles upon my lower back. There were two thick leather ties that sat on the small of my back of this belt, just above and below the buckles, which I quickly used to secure my two single-handed battle axes to my belt before reaching for the second. I secured the second leather belt around my waist in much the same fashion, only the buckles were upon my front before slipping two of my new throwing axes onto each side through leather loops so that they now rested upon either hip. Once I was sure every belt and weapon was properly in place I moved on to securing my leather bracers.

Once my bracers – which had a similar intricate design pressed into them as the design on my breast plate – were tightly fixed around my wrists and my lower forearms, I slid my two new daggers into each bracer so that they sat along my inner forearms before bending over and sliding two more of my new throwing axes into the outer side of each of my boots. These were kept out of sight, hidden amongst the wolf's fur of my boots, but they were still easily accessible in the case that I needed them.

Reaching back onto my bed I picked up a grouping of leather straps before slipping them on over top of my breast plate and sliding my arms through two of the straps. The four leather straps attached to a brass ring that rested in the middle of my chest, two straps coming over my shoulders and two straps wrapped around underneath my arms before coming up to rest just under my breasts, forming a large X over my armour. These leather straps held my two-handed warhammer securely across my back, allowing me easy access to it if ever I had the need for it. Upon the two lower straps on my back I secured the final two new throwing axes from Dáin.

Once I had finished dressing, I threw my new thick woolen dark green cloak over my shoulders, clasping it at my collarbones before I quickly tucked my new spare clothes in my pack, keeping my old spares in case I needed them on my future travels and swinging my pack on over my shoulders over my cloak. Checking to make sure that everything was comfortable and felt right, I moved towards the door of my room. With a gentle tug on the worn brass handle, the heavy thick wooden door opened easily, but I found myself hesitating before I stepped out of my room.

Turning back, I let my gaze wander over the room that had been my home for the last six years, taking in the bed that sat in the middle of the room and to the right of the door, the small desk that sat beside the door and the wooden bookshelf which rested along the wall to the left of the door. Across from the bed and on the left side of the room from the door sat the roaring fireplace and just beside it sat a small royal red settee with a thick bear fur blanket resting over the back where I had spent many a night falling asleep on after long days spent beside Dáin in his halls. Right across from the entrance to my room was the doorway leading into the small bath room and on either side of the door to the bath room sat two wardrobes, one had been used for my few articles of clothing and the other a place where I could store my weapons.

After checking to make sure that I had, in fact, collected and packed all of my possessions – most importantly my wolf fur blanket and bed roll, among of course my dear weapons – I gave a curt nod, before turning on my feet and leaving my room behind me.

Moving down the quiet stone halls of the Iron Hills, my way illuminated by torches every few paces, I made my way through the seemingly endless tunnels and halls, passing only a few dwarves here and there – all offering me a kind smile and a slight bow, which I returned in kind – before the tunnel that I was in began to open up into a wide, expansive cavern. Stepping further along the path into the cavern, I smiled at the beauty that was the main marketplace, for even though I had spent years roaming this very place it never ceased to amaze me by how beautifully carved it was.

Many grey stoned staircases all lead up or down into the marketplace which was located in the very middle of Dáin's Halls and all the stone corridors that one could see – some narrow, some wide enough to fit large carts and two dwarves comfortably across – spread out from the marketplace, connecting to the royal halls, the forges, the mines, and other places of the Lord's Halls. From anywhere that one stood in the marketplace, one could see the caverns and open chambers that had been carved into the stone, staircases and corridors could be seen crossing through the caverns in the distance, torches lighting the far walls. But no matter where one stood in the marketplace, there was no way one would be able to see from one end of the mountain to the other, for the Halls of the Iron Hills had been delved and carved beneath many mountains, not just one.

The marketplace itself sat upon an immeasurably large stone slab spotted here and there with massive support columns and in-between these columns were many stalls and small dwarrow shops built from stone structures. Many of these shops already had fires roaring inside, for the shop keeps were already up and preparing for the day ahead. For even early in the morning as it was, the marketplace was already beginning to become alive and crowded with dwarves of all statures. Some were milling about talking to neighbouring vendors and shop keeps before the work day started, others talking over crafts that would be up for sale later that day, some sharing news about the wares and crafts they had completed in the days before, while others were simply talking with friends and family before they went their separate ways for work.

Standing upon the edge of one of the staircases looking down over the marketplace, my heart gave a small pang of sadness that this would be the last time that I would see many of these dwarves for many long years, maybe even ever again. Many of the dwarves of the Iron Hills had quickly become my family over the last six years, all of them beyond friendly and welcoming me into their shops and stalls as if I had been born and raised in their mountains myself. I say many of course, because even in all the time that I had been here, I had not met every dwarf in the Hills, for there were simply too many that dwelled beneath the mountains to have met them all. Yes, I would indeed miss the Iron Hills and all the friends that I had made here since I first arrived, but I knew in my heart that I had spent all the time here that I could and that it was time for me to move on, to journey back into the west and travel the lands there that I have not yet seen.

Although it took some time to walk down the stairs and pass through the crowds of the large marketplace – thanking the young dwarrowdams of the tailor's shop for my new clothes as I passed their shop and thanking two older bakers who offered me fresh baked biscuits and pies for my journey – it wasn't too long before I found myself walking up the wide open path leading to the beautiful front gates of the Iron Hills. The front gates of the Iron Hills were similar in design to the front gates of Erebor, though instead of being carved from jade they were carved from the dark grey iron ore the Iron Hills are so famous for and the entrance into the main mountain wasn't guarded by two massive stone dwarf statues.

The entrance hall behind the front gates was truly a spectacle to behold. One could hardly see the top of the entrance hall as it was far too high above those who stood in the hall and from side to side you could line up a row of thirty dwarves and still struggle to touch each wall. While the grey stone path that ran right through the middle of the hall was lined with massive stone pillars on either side, each break between the pillars was a path leading either into the massive arms room or the chambers for the guards of the front gates.

In the middle of the wide grey stone path standing just below the entrance of the front gates stood the Lord of the Iron Hills himself with two others at his side, the three being passed by groups of hunters already leaving to check their traps from the night before and the morning guard switching over with the night shift. The captains of the night guard and the morning guard stood off to the side, discussing the happenings of the night before while the group making up the night guard climbed tiredly down the stone staircase that sat to the right of the path and the group making up the morning guard climbed up the stone staircase that sat to the left of the path. The dwarves of the night guard gave me tired nods as we passed each other along the path, each heading off to the chambers behind me to catch up on some much needed sleep from the night before.

The sun was just beginning to come up over the mountains before the valley leading into the Halls of Dáin, the early rays of sunshine streaming down into the mountain illuminating all who stood in the threshold of the front gates. A gentle smile upon my face, I continued on up the path before I came to stand at Dáin's right side, my smile growing wider upon seeing who stood with him. No words were spoken between the four of us for a few long moments until I decided to break the silence myself.

"Ya truly do 'ave a beautiful 'ome 'ere in the Urâd Zirnul, Dáin and Línora. It'll be 'ard ta leave this all behind."

"Oh aye, it'll be 'ard indeed, mimûna, but I know ye, ye'll be fine. Ye always were a tough one, yer father's daughter no doubt 'bout that, but ye'll do fine on the road again lass," Dáin said with a warm smile on his face as he turned to me and clasped my left shoulder firmly.

"My yusthûn is right, mimûna, ye always were a tough one. I don't want ya ta leave, but I know it's fer the best. Ye'll be just fine, I know ye will," Lady Línora spoke warmly, a kind motherly smile upon her face as she stepped to her husband's side. Her long, thick blonde hair shining like gold in the early morning rays of the sun. Her marriage braids framed her face proudly, Dáin's beads shining brightly in the light upon the end of each braid while the lady's royal braid hung proudly down the back of her head, Durin's bead clasped tightly to the end.

"I cannae tank ye enough fer all ya 'ave done fer me, Dáin and Línora, truly, I cannae."

"Ye are most welcome, kandith."

"Aye, we were more then happy ta do so," The Lord and Lady of the Iron Hills said, both beaming happily down at me.

"So... What paths will ye take, lassie?"

Chuckling, I shook my head at Dáin, who received a smack on the arm from his dear wife, before turning to look out over the valley before us. The sun was just beginning to coat the trees that lined the Redwater River and distant mountains in its warm early morning rays as it rose further into the sky.

"I suppose there aren't many paths fer me ta take, Dáin, save fer the Zirsîntharkh before followin' the Fant'ân south. Once I git inta Kharbânzudnu I'll pass through the plains near Fangorn before takin' the North-South Road through Hundshimrîn and then takin' the Greenway up ta Bree."

"And when ya git ta Bree, lass? What then?"

"Well, I'll 'ave been on the road fer a few months by then, suppose I'll stay in Bree fer a few days, recoverin' from ma travels before decidin' where the next part o' me journey will be."

"Ya mean ya 'aven't decided yet?" A rich, deep voice sounded from behind the Lord and Lady, drawing all of our gazes to the other young dwarrow of our small group.

"No, I 'aven't, mimûn. I just know tha' I'm goin' west," I chuckled, shaking my head lightly at the young lord who looked so remarkably like his father, save for the same warm topaz eyes of his mother. The only braid the young lord bore was the royal braid that ran down the back of his head with Durin's bead at the end as well. He was the perfect combination of both his parents.

"Aye, tis a good plan ya 'ave there, kandith. Ya be careful along the Fant'ân and Fangorn, ya 'ear me? Don't pass beneath the leaves o' that old forest, lass. Tis a strange place."

Turning from the young lord who had become a close friend over the years I had spent in the Iron Hills to smile fondly again at the Lord and Lady, I nodded, "Ye don't 'ave ta worry, Dáin, I'll be careful and I won't go wanderin' through Fangorn. I've 'eard my fair share o' stories 'bout that place."

"Good. Now before ya go lass, we've got one more gift fer ya. 'ere," From off his back, Dáin pulled a beautiful large two-handed warhammer and held it out to me. Normally such a thing wouldn't go unnoticed by my keen eyes, but even in his halls, Dáin was fond of carrying his beloved warhammer around, always saying you could never be too careful.

Tentatively, I reached out and grasped the stained brownish red leather wrapped handle into my own hands, looking wondrously over the khuzdul runes that had been imprinted into the leather along the handle. The warhammer itself was similar in design to Dáin's own warhammer (which he chose not to wear on this morning,) save for the design upon the rectangular shaped head and the runes on the handle. This warhammer's head was made with hardened rubies over thick, strong iron. The rubies shone brightly in the morning sun and...

"Uzbadê... I-is that... Is that sanzigil?!"

"Aye, mimûna, tis sanzigil. The last o' the stores that we 'ad from the old mines of Khazâd-dûm. And that's not all. This warhammer is forged with sanzigil, o' course, but also with our strongest iron, obsidian __and__ onyx. Ye can find no stronger weapon in all o' Middle Earth, lassie, than that there warhammer. The warhammer's 'ead 'as 'ardened rubies forged inta it too as ye no doubt noticed and I took special care ta make sure that a thick line o' sanzigil could be seen throughout the 'ead."

"Uzbadê... Dáin... I cannae accept this. Tis too great a gift ta accept."

"Aye, tis a great gift indeed, lass, a kingly gift if ever there was one. Whether ya like it or not, yer takin' this with ye," Línora spoke, a small fire burning behind her topaz eyes, daring me to try walking out of the Iron Hills without my latest gift.

"My lady is right, lass, yer takin' this with ye, ye 'ave no choice. I made it meself, forged the sanzigil on the night o' a blood moon I did. Ye'll truly find no better nor stronger weapon than this 'ammer in all o' Middle Earth, mimûna. Daresay it could do some damage ta a dragons scale that's 'ow strong it is."

Holding the warhammer tightly in my right hand, with the base of the handle now resting firmly upon the ground, I ran the fingers of my other hand over the thick line of mithril that had been worked along the head between the rubies. Awe and wander shone brightly in my eyes, for mithril itself, let alone crafts made with the precious ore, had scarcely been seen in the world for many long years and yet here in my hands I held the last of the stores from our lost home of Khazâd-dûm. Letting out a breath that I had hardly known I had been holding, I glanced back over to Dáin, meeting his warm brown eyes, I swallowed back a wave of emotions before saying, "Khamnêl, Dáin, khamnêl. I couldna asked fer a better gift. This'll serve me well and shall be 'onoured fer the rest o' me life, I promise ye that."

"Aye, lassie. I 'ave no doubts that this 'ammer will be in good 'ands with ye," Dáin stepped forward once more, placing a firm hand upon my shoulder before leaning forward and resting his forehead gently against mine, "Mahzurulmi astû sigin'aimu nusus. Mukhuh bekhazu Mahal tamrakhi astû, bâha-ê."

"Mukhuh bekhazu Mahal tamrakhi astû, bâha-ê," I murmured in return, closing my eyes to take in the moment. I did not know if I would ever return to the Iron Hills or when I would next see the great dwarf standing in-front of me again. I hoped that I would in time come back and visit him, but nothing was ever for certain.

Pulling back, I glanced up to meet Dáin's warm brown eyes, surprised to see a few tears glistening in the deep depths of his eyes, my own tearing up at the sight. I'll never forget such a sight, such a rare moment for the usually brash dwarf, but after all the time we had spent together over the last six years, it was understandable. It never was an easy thing to do, saying farewell to kin, especially when you did not know whether you would see them again.

"Mukhuh bekhazu Mahal tamrakhi astû, bâha-ê," Línora whispered, stepping forward and replacing her husband's place, resting her forehead gently against my own as well.

"Mukhuh mabaddakhi y bunmû Mahal, Zabdûna Línora ra khamnêl," I murmured, pulling back and smiling fondly at the dwarrowdam who had become much like a mother to me in the time I had spent in her home.

"Tis nothin', young lass. We were happy ta have ya here," The lady smiled warmly at me before she too stepped back to stand beside her husband linking her arm through his, leaving only the young lord standing before me.

"Well, it seems we must part ways fer now, mimûn. Ye'll grow inta a great dwarf like yer parents one day, I 'ave no doubt 'bout that and a great lord too."

"Oi, not ye too! Everyone keeps sayin' that 'bout me," The young lord exclaimed, a slight whine to his deep voice.

"Tis a compliment, mimûn, especially with parents like yers," I chuckled, affectionately patting his shoulder before adding in a scolding tone, "No need ta whine like that, it isn't becomin' o' a young lord."

"Sorry, kandith," The young dwarrow apologized, hanging his head with slight shame at the scolding. His shoulders drooped slightly after a moments of silence between the two of us before he sadly asked, "Do ya really 'ave ta leave?"

"Aye, I do. I've spent far too much time 'ere, lad. The road 'as been callin' ta me fer awhile now and I cannae longer deny it," I sighed, grasping the slightly shorter dwarrow's shoulder gently.

"Then may Mahal and Kidzulzanât be with ye on yer travels, ma friend," The young lord said somberly, returning my gesture in kind as he spoke.

"Mukhuh mabaddakhi y bunmû Mahal, Thorin Stonehelm," I murmured, stepping forward to nudge my forehead gently against his own in farewell.

The young son of Dáin and Línora stepped back, moving to stand beside his mother as his father once more stepped up beside me. With a small nod of farewell to Lady Línora and Thorin Stonehelm, Dáin and I walked a short ways out of the entrance hall and out the front gates onto the beginning of the Zirsîntharkh before we came to a stop upon the small crest of a hill.

"'Aimugalikh, Dáin-Uzbad Ifthuzirin," I whispered, not quite trusting my voice to hold steady if I spoke any louder. The lord beside me seemed to be of the same mind as he only offered a sorrowful smile and slight bow of the head in return. Sporting a sorrowful smile of my own, I turned away from Dáin and faced the quickly rising sun, the warm rays gently dancing upon my face as they broke past the peaks of the mountains to the east.

Before setting off I made sure to secure my new weapon upon my back under the careful watch of the dwarf lord at my side. The handle of my new hammer now crisscrossed with my old warhammer so that the head of my old weapon rested just behind my left shoulder and the head of my new one now rested just behind my right. Taking in a deep breath and giving myself a second to collect my thoughts, I then set off along the well traveled road, beginning my journey through Middle Earth once more.

"'Aimugalikh **,** kandith," Dáin called after me, melancholy thick in his voice. The Lord of the Iron Hills stood in the middle of the road leading to the front gates of his halls, his wife and son now at his side and together they watched my form grow smaller and smaller into the distance until they could no longer make me out in the vast valley before them. The last they saw of me was my small form making its way over the crest of a small hill, following the great roaring waters of Redwater River.

"Until Mahal sees our paths cross again, mimûna."

* * *

Dáin and Línora were right, it didn't take me long to settle back into life on the road. Only a few hours had passed before I was back into my old routines. Things fell right into place, old habits picking up right where they had left off six years ago. I found myself always glancing around in the trees that lined the road for any signs of danger, always looking for deer or boar or other wild animals to hunt, always searching for any fruits or wild vegetables to collect and eat later, always knowing whether the dark clouds in the distance would be of trouble that day or night or would simply pass on by. Life was back to how I had known for the better part of the last few decades of my life. Things were good and I was happy once more.

Not to say that life in the Iron Hills was bad, of course, or that I myself was entirely unhappy there, but when one is used to life on the road, always moving from one city to another, it never does well to dwell in one place for too long. And I had maybe spent a year too long with Dáin and my kin in the Iron Hills, though I certainly don't regret a single moment of my time spent there.

A month had now passed since I had left the Iron Hills behind me and I had traveled quite a distance. I had long since left the Zirsîntharkh and traveled south down the banks of the Fant'ân. I had passed far beyond the borders of the Lórien forests, even walked along the borders of Fangorn and passed by Masharbulhund before traveling through the Gap of Kharbânzudnu, sheltering for the night in a large outcropping of rocks not far passed the Gap in the lands near Hundshimrîn. I now found myself walking along the old, neglected North-South Road through the open plains of Hundshimrîn, beginning to make my way north towards Bree.

Things had been good. I hadn't run into any trouble during my journey so far and what few merchants and travelers I crossed paths with along the way – before crossing the Gap of Kharbânzudnu, of course – were kind and friendly and shared what news they had of the area with me. This, of course, lead me to push myself in my journey to Bree, choosing to walk through the night most nights, wanting to get to the small town of Men as soon as possible. It was on this colder then normal night, near the end of March, maybe a quarter of the way through the vast lands of Hundshimrîn, when my luck ran out.

There was a quiet rustling in the tall wild grass that grew beside the road on my left that had me pausing mid-step. Turning my head slightly towards the sound, I could just barely make out the tall grass swishing back and forth out of the corner of my eye passed the edge of the dark green hood of my cloak that I had pulled on to keep warm in the cool night. Taking a step forward so that both my feet were now firmly planted upon the ground, I slowly tensed my body, bending my knees just slightly and turning my hips somewhat towards the grass, preparing myself for anything to jump out at me.

Just when I thought that it had been a small animal of some sort rustling around in the tall grass and was preparing to continue on my way, three large creatures suddenly came bursting out of the grass, tackling me roughly to the ground. Struggling against the weight of my attackers, I threw one off of me as I rolled upon the ground and managing to free my right arm enough to punch another blindly in what I thought was the face but couldn't entirely be sure, hard enough to throw it off of me. Now that there was only the third attacker that I had to deal with I was able to roll us both over so that I was on my back before wedging my right foot up between the two of us and kicking it off of me. Rolling backwards and up onto my feet in one swift movement, I threw back my hood that had somehow managed to stay on during the short scuffle and took in the site of my three attackers before me for the first time.

"Rakhâs!" I hissed. The three large evil creatures before me growled in response, baring their sharpened dark teeth at me as they began to spread out around me, brandishing their ugly curved swords and other weapons of the same foul nature. Taking a slow step back, I shrugged off my pack, which landed with a small thud upon the road, and unclasped my cloak, letting it fall haphazardly over top of my pack, before reaching behind me and pulling Dáin's greatest gift from my back all the while never taking my eyes off the creatures around me. Spinning the heavy weapon gently within my hands a few times, I got a feel for the new leather upon the handle and the weight of the weapon, before once more gripping it firmly in my hands, confident that I could wield it well with one hand as well as both in the upcoming scrum.

Raking my eyes over the creatures before me I took in their ugly features. All three had dark, sickly looking skin, long and slightly pointed ears and beady dark yellow eyes. The one on my left was the smallest of the three and had four small metal bars worked into the skin above its right eye with thick, unkempt brown hair pulled back in what could only be described as poor attempts at braids. A long ugly scar ran from the crown of its head through its hair, down through its right eye and further down passed the creatures jaw, ending somewhere beneath the light ugly chain mail that was draped over the creatures upper body. A grotesque looking battle axe was clutched in its leather clad hands.

The one directly before me had part of the bone of its nose sticking out and a trail of black blood ran down either side of its pig-like nose, no doubt from the hard punch I had landed on the rukhs. Strands of what little hair this rukhs had were stuck in the trails of blood down its face. This creature also wore a light chain mail and held two grisly looking steel scimitars in its hands.

The third one and the one to my right was the largest of the three and the most horrid looking rakhâs I had ever seen. It had dark stripes of paint down its face and arms with its unkempt black hair pulled back and held together with bits and pieces of small bones. Its nose was crooked and pointed, no doubt having been broken at some point in its life while half of its right ear was completely missing. The area around its mouth looked as if it was permanently stained red with blood and a wicked looking grin stretched its cracked lips, but this creature wore no chain mail. No, instead its armour appeared to be made of some kind of animal skeleton with dried skin still attached in places. Ugly looking leather gloves adorned the creatures hands with sharp pointed bits of bone stuck out over the knuckles and a large scimitar was held in its right hand, bits of the blade having been chipped off at some point during the weapons life.

A small wave of disgust and trepidation ran through my veins before I quickly steeled myself. I tightened my grip even more upon the handle of my warhammer and dug my heels slightly into the dried earth beneath my feet, bracing myself for any unsuspecting attack from the foul creatures.

"Gelekh d'ashrud bakhz!" I yelled before rushing forward and knocking one of the ugly blades of the rukhs before me out of its hands with the base of my warhammer's handle before bringing my hammer up and blocking the swing of its other blade. Quickly pushing the blade up and away from my head, I swung around behind the creature and with a mighty swing of my warhammer I brought it down upon its skull before it even knew what was happening, killing the creature instantly and sending a spray of black blood across my face.

Turning away from the now fallen creature towards the next one at my left, I dodge two hard and fast swings of the creatures battle axe before rushing around behind it, swiping its armour clad feet from beneath it and bringing my hammer down harshly upon its chest as it fell, crushing the creatures ribs and killing it immediately. Once more sending another spray of blood across my body and face.

Before I could pull my hammer free from the body of the second vile creature the third one had already tackled me to the ground from the side, knocking my warhammer's handle from my grasp and sending us both sprawling harshly to the ground and driving the air from each of our lungs. Regaining its breath first, the creature scrambled on top of me, pinning me to the ground with my arms trapped at awkward angles beneath my body. The creatures legs were straddling my stomach so it sat upon my hips, while one hand pressed harshly into my left shoulder to hold me down and the other held an ugly curved knife to my throat, the creature's scimitar now forgotten along the road behind us.

The rukhs hissed something at me in its dark tongue, pressing the blade into my skin and drawing a small trickle of blood, but I did not flinch or cry out. This dark creature didn't scare me and I would not offer it the pleasure of hearing or seeing me in any kind of pain.

"Go ahead, do it ye vile filth. Ye'll not 'ear me scream. Ye do not scare me," I bite out through clenched teeth, pushing my neck further into the knife. This seemed to surprise the rukhs sitting a top me, if the widening of its horrid yellow eyes was anything to go by. The evil creature only paused momentarily before a wicked grin spread across its face once more and it began to slowly drag its knife across my neck, from the middle of my throat and up towards the middle of my jaw on the left side of my face.

Before the overly large rukhs even knew that the body below it had shifted, a small axe was being buried in the side of its ugly head. Unfortunately for me, in the small second between life and death for this creature, it had jerked its hand up slicing through the skin that ran along my jaw nearly cutting all the way back to my ear. Hissing out in pain, I pushed the now dead creature off of me before rolling back to lay on the ground, a hand quickly pressing into the deep cut that now ran along my neck and jaw.

"Stupid rakhâs," I cursed to myself before rolling over and pushing myself to my feet and moving to my pack that had not been disturbed during the skirmish, sitting exactly where I had dropped it on the road. Pushing my cloak off my pack and digging through my supplies inside with my right hand, the left still pressed firmly to my neck, warm red blood now beginning to seep quickly through the cracks between my fingers, I soon found what I had been searching for, a roll of white bandages. Working quickly, for I knew time was of the essence with an injury such as this, I ripped off a good length of bandages, folding it neatly before pressing it tightly against the rather large cut along my throat and wrapping the roll of bandages around my neck a few times before tying it off neatly below my left ear. Tearing another good length of bandage off the roll and folding it neatly, I pressed the wad of bandage firmly to the part of the cut that ran along my jaw towards my ear, a small groan of pain escaping passed my lips as I did so.

Once I knew that the bandages were securely in place I turned back to the three dead creatures behind me. Moving towards the body of the one who had cut me, I made quick work of pulling my throwing axe from its head before wiping its thick black blood on an old bit of tattered cloth I had pulled from my bag while digging for bandages before slipping the throwing axe back into place upon one of the lower leather straps along my back. Checking to make sure that my second throwing axe was still in place upon the other strap, I was quick to check that my battle axes were still secured upon the small of my back as well before walking a few short steps over to the body which my warhammer was still buried in.

Wrapping my right hand tightly around the leather handle I pulled sharply, releasing my warhammer in one swift, well practiced movement. A soft squelching sound could be heard as it came free. Thick black blood dripped off the large head of my warhammer, beginning to drip down the handle as well, working its way slowly towards my hand and then to the blood spattered ground below. Not caring in the least of getting blood on myself anymore then there already was, I tilted the hammer towards me, my sharp eyes running over every inch of it, seeking out any damage or scratches.

Happiness flooded through me when my eyes could find no damage or anything of the sort upon my hammer and I was just about to bring my other hand up to begin wiping the black blood from the hammer's head when I saw it. The thick line of mithril ore was glowing brightly, even through the thick black blood that coated it, in the light of the moon above me and that's when it struck me.

"Bloodmoon. Tis what I shall call ye. Bloodmoon."

Happy to have found a name for my new warhammer, I brought my left hand up and quickly set to wiping the blood from its head before once more securing the weapon across my back and tying the now dirtied cloth to the front of my waist belt, keeping it there until I could find a stream later to clean it in.

Glancing back over the creatures that still lay where they fell, I knew I couldn't just leave their bodies in the middle of the road for some poor traveler or another of the vile creatures to find them. Heaving a sigh, I set about dragging all three bodies far off the road and deep into the tall grass that the rakhâs had been hiding in, taking special care to look around every few seconds, searching for any more of the vile creatures to spring out at me before bending over and searching the bodies for anything of note. The first two had nothing but a few scraps of whatever food they ate, but the third one – the larger of the three – did have something curious tucked away under the collar of its bone armour.

Digging my fingers beneath its armour I picked out a worn piece of dirtied brown cloth that had been folded up at least two or three times and handled by countless of hands over time. Carefully opening it, I found strange black symbols and runes drawn on the cloth. Studying the markings closely, my eyes widened in shock when I recognized the words, 'Oaken' and 'Dwarf' in the strange runes of Black Speech. 'Oaken? Dwarf? Why are they looking for Thorin?' I thought, my brows furrowing in confusion and concern for my king.

Tucking the note safely into the side of my left boot, I set the bodies aflame and stood there absentmindedly watching them burn while my thoughts ran wild over the possibilities of what this note could possibly mean, 'Maybe I should return home to deliver this to Thorin, or send a messenger to Khagal'abbad from Bree with it at least. He at least needs to know he's being hunted by rakhâs.'

Sighing to myself, I thought out loud, "Strange ta find such creatures 'long this road though, 'specially if they are lookin' fer Thorin. Everyone knows the North-South Road is rarely used anymore, surely the rakhâs know this too. 'Sides, why look fer Thorin 'ere in Hundshimrîn? Why not 'round the Khagal'abbad? Tis no secret 'e resides there...

"Where on earth could they 'ave come from anyways? Tis no evil ta be found in these parts o' the world, usually they only be roamin' the lands in the north, not this far south. Tis a curious and somewhat worryin' ting indeed."

As I stood there staring at the three burning bodies and pondering over where these creatures had come from and why they were in these parts of the world looking for one dwarf, and a dwarf lord no less, I knew I couldn't stay here much longer, in case anymore of their kind decided to show up. Turning around and leaving the fire to burn itself out behind me, I made my way back to the road, picking up my discarded cloak and placing it over my shoulders once more before swinging my pack up and slipping it onto my shoulders again. I paused before continuing on the road north, knowing I had to find someplace soon to get my wound properly tended to.

"Cannae go anywhere in Hundshimrîn fer that, none of the villages 'ere would treat me. No, I'll 'ave ta go inta Muthurzudnu. But where...?" Running through the map of Middle Earth in my mind for any nearby towns or villages, I searched and searched, trying to recall every town that I knew of from all the maps that I had seen over the years. Letting a tired breath escape passed my lips, I knew my answer, "Tis nowhere ta go besides Bree itself. I'm goin' ta 'ave ta 'urry and 'ope that Mahal graces me with a clear path ta town."

And with that I was off, once more walking along the all but deserted North-South Road and making my way north towards the abandoned city of Imlêktharkh, where I would have to cross the Greyflood River that bordered the old abandoned city before making my way north to Bree.

* * *

 ** **Translations:****

 ** **Uzbadê:**** My lord

 ** **Kandith:**** Little wolf

 ** **Khamnêl:**** Gratitude of all gratitude

 ** **Urâd Zirnul:**** Iron Hills (especially by those from the Lonely Mountain)

 ** **Mimûna:**** (female) Little one

 **Yusthûn:** Male partner (husband)

 ** **Mimûn:**** (male) Little one

 **Zirsîntharkh:** Old Forest Road

 **Fant'** **â** **n:** Anduin River

 **Kharbânzudnu:** Rohan

 **Hundshimrîn:** Dunland

 ** **Sanzigil:**** Mithril (literally, true silver)

 ** **Khazâd-dûm:**** Dwarrowdelf, Khuzdul name for Moria, meaning "Hall of the Khazâd (Dwarves)"

 ** **Mahzurulmi astû sigin'aimu nusus. Mukhuh bekhazu Mahal tamrakhi astû, bâha-ê:**** I wish you a safe journey. May Mahal's hammer shield you, my friend.

 ** **Mukhuh mabaddakhi y bunmû Mahal, Zabdûna Línora ra khamnêl:**** May we meet again with the grace of Mahal, Lady Línora and gratitude of all gratitude. (May we meet again with the grace of Mahal is a formal farewell in Khuzdul)

 **Mahal:** Khuzdul name for the Vala, Aulë, the Maker

 ** **Kidzulzanât:**** Khuzdul name for the Vala, Tulkas, the Warrior

 ** **Mukhuh mabaddakhi y bunmû Mahal:**** May we meet again with the grace of Mahal

 ** **'Aimugalikh, Dáin-Uzbad Ifthuzirin:**** Farewell, Lord Dáin Ironfoot

 ** **'Aimugalikh, kandith:**** Farewell, little wolf

 **Masharbulhund:** Dol Baran

 ** **Rakhâs:**** Orcs

 ** **Rukhs:**** Orc

 ** **Gelekh d'ashrud bakhz!:**** Time to swing a war hammer!

 **Khagal'abbad:** Blue Mountains

 **Muthurzudnu:** Enedwaith

 **Imlêktharkh:** Tharbad

* * *

 ** **Author's Note:**** And there we have it! The new chapter one is done. It's quite long for a starting chapter, even for me, but I actually had to cut it in half so that it's the chapter you see here today. Before I cut it in half it was 17 pages long, and even then after all the translations and this note it's now 14 pages long. I'm not entirely sure if the rest of the chapters will be this long, but they'll certainly be lengthy chapters, hopefully not boring or ones that run on and on though.

I'm sorry for all the Khuzdul in this chapter. I do plan on using Khuzdul often, but this chapter definitely has a lot in. Don't worry, I'll make sure to have a translation section at the end of each chapter when I do use Khuzdul though, but only for new words. So if any of the words above show up again in later chapters, which they will, there won't be any translations for them, but I might change that if you all would like me to add them. All translations come either from the ever lovely and helpful The Dwarrow Scholar and from David Salo as well.

There's a lot of descriptions in this chapter too, which takes up quite a lot of the chapter, so I'm sorry if it got annoying or confusing in any way or just seemed to make the chapter/flow of the chapter drag on. I'm just one of those authors who really likes to try and paint a mental image with words. Feel free to let me know if you liked or didn't like the long descriptions in this chapter though!

In future chapters I'm going to try and not have author's notes at the end, but sometimes I'll have one and I can promise you they won't be nearly as long as this one is. I'll be throwing in little nods to Lord of the Rings as well in this story, like the little rock outcropping that our main character slept in after the Gap of Rohan? Yeah, that's the same rock outcropping that the Fellowship rests in before Saruman's Crebain fly over them. I'm just not entirely sure how often those nods will happen.

And as you can also see I did add Thorin Stonehelm to the story, I don't think he'll make a big impact or anything, but I mean, our main character was in the Iron Hills, Thorin Stonehelm was born long before Erebor was reclaimed, in fact he's only a few years younger then our main character, I couldn't just not include him in the story. And I created Dáin's wife, Línora too, she might have a bigger role later on, I haven't quite decided yet.

As for how the main character talks, I'm trying to give her a Scottish accent, same with Dáin. I myself am not Scottish though, so I am horribly sorry to any Scottish readers if you are offended in any way by how I've chosen to type some of the words. I mean no offense, just trying to do what I can to make my main character seem real. If there are any Scottish readers who wouldn't mind helping me out with how certain words would be if spoken by someone with a really heavy accent (for Dáin) and someone with a slight accent (for our main character) that would be absolutely wonderful!

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! I'm working and editing the second one right now, so it'll be up here within the next week or so and then I'll start on the third one too. I'm always open for hearing what you all think, whether it's constructive criticism or compliments, so please don't be afraid to leave a review!

Oh! And one last thing, I am on Tumblr, I'll be posting updates for all of my stories on there and posting pictures for outfits or what the characters look like. Once I properly introduce our main character in this story you'll see her picture on Tumblr. You can find me under ****phoenix-rising29****

Cheers!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Luckily for me, Mahal had graced me with a road clear of trouble out of Hundshimrîn over the coming days since the orc attack and I had made quick time along the road. It took me nearly a week – five and a half days to be exact – to reach the Greyflood River, marking the border of Muthurzudnu and Hundshimrîn and Mahal even blessed me with a low river that day so that my journey across the ford of Imlêktharkh was not as treacherous as it could have been.

After crossing the ford of Imlêktharkh, I decided to take advantage of the clean waters of the Greyflood River. Walking a little ways off the road into a cropping of old cottonwood trees and finding a small alcove of the river, I set down my pack at the base of a very large cottonwood with a tired sigh. Unclasping the buckles of my cloak, I took that off too, folding it neatly and placing it on the ground beside my pack before moving back towards the shores of the Greyflood.

Kneeling upon the grassy shores I began filling up my water skins and after both were filled I untied the dirtied cloth from my belt and washed it thoroughly in the gently flowing waters, staining the river briefly with the black blood that once coated the threads of the cloth. Dipping the now clean cloth back into the river and wringing it of water, I began using the cloth to wipe away any blood upon my face and armour before I set to cleaning my wound.

Slowly and carefully pealing off the blood soaked bandages from my face and neck, I was happy to find that there was no sign of fresh blood upon them. Slightly leaning over the gentle waters that swirled in lazy circles in the alcove I looked upon my reflection, grimacing a bit at the sight of the ugly, yet scabbed over wound. It didn't look infected from what little I could tell in my reflection, but upon gentle prodding of the skin around the wound I found that it wasn't swollen and did not seem to be raw or oozing puss, a good sign that the wound in fact was not infected.

Wetting the worn cloth in the river and wringing it of excess water again, I gently began to dab and rub at my wound, clearing away any dried blood and dirt. After a few tedious and slightly painful minutes of cleaning, I re-wrapped the wound before walking back over to my pack and pulling out my wolf fur-lined bedroll, rolling it out at the trunk of the tree. Turning back to my pack, I dug through the contents inside until I found some dried deer meat that I had caught and hunted only two days before and a slightly bruised apple that I had picked from a lone apple tree in the small woods that I had hunted the deer in before settling down upon one of the large gnarled moss covered roots of the cottonwood and eating my small dinner for the night. Once I was finished eating and I had spent an hour smoking some of my pipe-weed left over from the Iron Hills pondering still over the note that I had found on the body of one of the orcs, I glanced up at the nearly full moon that was almost halfway through its journey across the sky and decided it was time to turn in for the night.

Setting Bloodmoon on the ground beside my bedroll I turned and placed my battle axes and old warhammer gently against the base of the trunk between two gnarled roots. Removing the two throwing axes from my belt and from off the leather straps on my back I leaned over and placed them on the ground in-front of my battle axes, keeping my two daggers in my bracers and two throwing axes in my boots, just in case. Even without a fire going, no place was truly safe for sleeping when your on the road and on your own no less. After quickly glancing around the small clearing I had claimed for my own that night and doing a quick walk around in the cropping of trees, checking for any signs of danger or other creatures and finding none, I returned to the clearing and crawled into my bedroll, settling down for what would hopefully be a peaceful night by the Greyflood.

* * *

It seemed that Mahal was watching over one of his daughters as I woke up before dawn the next morning after having a restful and undisturbed sleep for the first time in what seemed like weeks. Eating a small breakfast of a dried biscuit and another slightly bruised apple, I packed up my bedroll, tying it with two thin leather thongs to the straps of my pack so that it sat beneath my pack and over the small of my back. Once my bedroll was secured, I quickly secured my weapons back into their rightful places, feeling much better and more at ease knowing my weapons were back where they belonged. Roving my gaze over the clearing once more, I made sure that I had packed everything and nothing of mine was left behind before turning and making my way back through the trees and to the road once more.

Turning north, I continued on my way to Bree, now upon the old and nearly forgotten Greenway. From the shores of the Greyflood River it had taken me almost another full week, six long days to be exact of which I only slept every second night, before I reached the fork in the road just south of the Mirdinhanadlibrîn and turned right upon the old Greenway, which offered a bit of a challenge as the road was now hardly used and tall green grass had begun to grow where the road used to lay, but none the less I found what was left of the old road well enough, the grass not being quite as tall where the old road used to be. Finally, not passed midday in the early weeks of April and on the sixth day since I left the shores of the Greyflood, I finally saw the old wooden walls that surrounded the town of Bree.

Thankfully, during my six days of travel since the Greyflood River it had poured quite heavily for most of the second day and third day, drenching me straight to the bone and thoroughly ridding me of any and all blood that still remained upon me so that I simply looked like any ordinary traveler would once more.

With a bit more pep to my step, I hurried my way up the short remainder of the Greenway before coming to a stop at the South Gate of Bree. Stepping forward and knocking loudly twice upon the old wooden door I waited for the Gatekeeper. Not hearing any movement from behind the wall, save for the occasional braying of horses, mooing of cows and the rare crowing of a few roosters, I knocked again and listened carefully for any movement, hoping above all that I wouldn't have to walk around through the forest to the West Gate. After a few heartbeats of silence though, I heard the sounds of hushed movement behind the wall and the creaking of a door opening and slightly muted footsteps in the dried dirt of the road before finally the higher of the two slats in the door slid opened and the face of an elderly man peeked down at me.

"Ah! Master Dwarf! Apologies for the wait, don't get many travelers through these southern gates anymore. What business do ya have here in Bree?"

"I wish ta stay at The Prancin' Pony fer a few nights, Master Gatekeeper and I wish ta see yer 'ealer while I'm 'ere too. Just passin' through tis all, I promise," I answered curtly, throwing back the hood of my cloak so that the elderly man could see my face. I had long grown accustomed to the race of Men thinking me for a lad when I am in fact a lass, though you'd think without my beard, and with my slightly pronounced breasts and my rather form fitting clothes it'd be easier to tell that I'm a lass.

"Oh! Apologies miss, I didn't realize ye were a lass! Come in, come in! There's plenty o' room in The Prancing Pony for ya and ye will find the healer just 'round the corner from the Inn miss. If I may, ye should stop by Old Nan's Bakery during yer stay here in Bree. She has the best meat pies around! I promise ya won't be disappointed. She's just across the way from The Prancing Pony, ya can't miss her shop," The poor old man exclaimed, shock and sincere apology washing over his face when he realized his mistake. He truly did mean well the old gatekeeper.

"Tank ye, Master Gatekeeper, ye are far too kind. Apologies are not needed, I do not mind bein' mistaken fer a lad, 'appens more then ya tink. I'll be sure ta stop by Old Nan's 'fore I leave then, I always was fond o' a good meat pie," Dropping a few gold coins into the elderly man's hand as I passed through the gate I offered him a kind smile before continuing on up the road now known as the Great East Road, traveling further into the busy town of Bree.

The old man stared curiously down at the gold coins in his hand before a bright smile appeared across his face and a shout of thanks left his lips before he quickly turned and ran back inside the old Gatekeeper's Lodge. I hadn't walked very far up the road so I could hear his shouts as as he burst through the faded red painted wood door of the lodge informing his wife that he was buying them a nice roast that night from The Prancing Pony for supper.

Before long, I found myself walking through the bustling marketplace of Bree. Men, women and hobbits alike selling their wares from stalls and wagons, shouting out to passerby's, trying to get more customers for the day. Women bustled around through the crowds with large baskets filled to the brim with breads, meats, cheeses, fruits and vegetables, though there were the few women who stood at stalls and bartered with the vendors over cooking and carving knives or other wares of similar sorts. Men walked from stall to stall, some checking over crafts and wares, some searching for the best cut of meat the butchers and hunters had to offer and some with large baskets that too were filled to the brim with breads, cheeses, meats, fruits and vegetables of all sorts. Some men could even be seen and heard bargaining with vendors for a cheaper price on an item, though most of them usually being met with a sharp, "No, this is the only price you'll bloody get," in response; the women who were bargaining though were more successful in getting cheaper prices then the men. Yes, Bree had always been a prosperous and lively town, one many travelers often went through when in these parts of the world.

Making my way down the main dirt lane, passing by a large and slightly scruffy looking man chewing on a large carrot as I went, I soon saw the beautifully aged and weathered wooden sign that read, _The Prancing Pony_ , with a beautifully carved faded white horse standing on its rear legs above the cursive writing. With a warm smile upon my face I pushed through the old wood door leading into the inn, instantly being hit with the smell of ale, pipe-weed and fresh cooked food, not to mention the loud and raucous laughter of the patrons inside the tavern.

Walking through the small dark wood paneled corridor and passing by the door to the kitchens, taking in a good deep whiff of the wondrous smells drifting out from behind the closed door, I came upon the end of the hall which opened up into the tavern. Even though it was still midday, most of the wood tables and stools up at the bar were filled with patrons who were happily sipping away at their ales and shoveling bits of meat, cheese, bread and spoonfuls of stew into their mouths all the while shouting rather joyously with their friends and companions.

Chuckling quietly to myself at the usual hustle and bustle of The Prancing Pony, I turned to the counter on my left that sat at the end of the hall before it opened into the tavern, catching the eye of the aging Barney Butterbur, the owner of inn. With a small dish towel in one hand and an empty ale mug in the other, Barney began to polish the inside of the mug with his cloth as he made his way towards me, a kind smile could be seen upon the man's face beneath his thick bushy brown beard.

"Ah, what can I do fer ya, Mistress Dwarf?"

"Afternoon, Master Barney, tis been some time since last I passed through yer tavern," I replied, a warm smile upon my face as I stared up at the man. He had certainly aged a bit since I passed through Bree years ago. Fine lines now sat upon the corners of his eyes and his brown hair and beard was beginning to grey in certain areas

"Well hello there lass! Tis good ta see ya again! I was wonderin' just the otha day if we'd ever see ya pass this way again. What brings ya back inta these parts of the world?" Barney Butterbur asked, placing his cloth and mug down upon the wooden counter and leaning over it slightly so that he was closer to my height now.

"I 'ave traveled as far north and as far east as I would dare and now I am back ta finish travelin' the lands o' the west," I replied, a small smile upon my face, though it sends a twinge of pain coursing through my left cheek from the stretched skin around my wound.

"I see that not all of ya journey was kind, lass."

"Aye, Master Barney, yer right. Ran inta a right bit o' trouble down the old North-South Road I did. Nasty business, but nothin' I cannae 'andle."

Chuckling deeply, the man shook his head gently before saying, "Of all the travelers ta ever pass through my door, lass, you'd be the strongest and the kindest I dare say. Go on, take a seat anywhere ya can find one, I'll be sure that Betsy comes over with some ale and food fer ya and I'll have young Carling set up yer room for ya. Once things settle down I'll come over and talk with ya too, all right lass?"

"Tank ya, Master Barney, but I'm afraid the ale and food will 'ave ta wait fer now. I'm goin' ta see ta the 'ealer, get this wound looked at, but once that's all done I'll be right back 'ere, I promise."

"Oh of course lass! Go and get yer wound looked at, the ale and food will be 'ere when ya come back and yer room will be ready fer ya too."

Smiling kindly up at Barney Butterbur, I turned on my heel, careful not to bump into the two tall men walking behind me into the tavern and promptly made my way back out into the bustling marketplace of Bree. Quickly moving out of the doorway so that other patrons could enter and exit the Pony, I remembered the old Gatekeeper's words and turned left from the inn, making my way up the main dirt lane before turning the corner and walking down a side street, passing by a few bustling shops and one of the butchers shops before coming upon the apothecary. Moving towards the door, I gently pushed it open, calling out a polite hello once I stood in the middle of the shop, only to be greeted by a kind elderly woman as she walked out of the back room.

No words were needed to be said between the two of us as the kind lady's gaze quickly fell to the dirtying bandages upon my face. Offering me a warm small, she gently guided me towards a small bed, pushing lightly on my shoulder for me to sit down upon the brown cloth blanket upon the bed. Her green eyes shone warmly at me as she gestured to my bandages and I gave her a gentle smile and small nod, giving her permission to tend to my wound.

It only took a few minutes for the kind old lady to see to my wound. It wasn't infected and needed hardly any cleaning, just enough to wipe away the dried blood from when the cut had opened a bit a few mornings ago when I opened my mouth too wide in a yawn, and it didn't even need any thread stitching. The wound had already healed quite well on its own, so there wasn't much the healer could do except give me a few herbs to help the wound heal faster. She even applied a poultice to the wound to keep away any infection in the final days of healing.

Unfortunately, as the elderly woman whispered quietly to me as she applied the poultice to my wound, the large cut would leave quite a scar upon my face, but I didn't mind. I was a dwarrowdam who had grown up on tales of war and battle and had seen my own share of battles upon my journey. This scar would only be another to add to the ones I already had.

Giving the elderly healer four gold coins in payment for her services and a promise that I would return to buy some herbs before I left Bree, I offered her a courteous smile as I left the apothecary and once again made my way back up the side street and onto the main lane before arriving back at the Inn of The Prancing Pony.

Passing through the door and into the tavern, I offered Barney a friendly smile as I passed him at the bar before moving to the far back of the tavern where I found a nice table in-front of the hearth. It wasn't long after I sat down, maybe a few minutes at best, before I was brought an ale and a bowl of warm venison stew with fresh baked bread by the lovely Betsy Butterbur, who promised she'd be over and chat for a bit once things settled down and some of the night girls arrived.

* * *

My first full day in Bree was rather uneventful, I'm afraid. I spent most of the day resting, catching up on the sleep that I had lost in my haste to get to town, only coming down into the tavern for an early breakfast and late dinner, before returning back to my room and falling asleep again. My second day was a bit more eventful as I was more well rested. I found myself starting off the day eating a small breakfast of two boiled eggs, two pieces of toast with strawberry jam, and some lovely smoked ham with a cup of chamomile tea, all the while talking with Barney and Betsy, catching up on some of the things that had happened in the last few years before they both left me late into the morning to start serving the patrons that were beginning to pile into the tavern already. Pulling out one of my well worn maps from an inside pocket of my cloak, I poured over it, planning out the next part of my journey. Once I had figured out where I would travel to next and was happy with the roads that I had decided to take to get there, I soon found myself wandering through the streets of Bree for the rest of the day.

Not everyone that I passed was friendly I'm afraid, as there weren't many dwarves who often passed through Bree, but most were kind or at the least courteous enough not to be rude to my face. I didn't purchase anything today from any of the stalls or shops that I stopped at though, I would save that for the day before I left, but I did look around, finding which stalls and shops I would need to visit before I left and promising the shop keeps and vendors I would be back to purchase their items and wares in a few days time.

As the sun began to set, and stalls and shops began closing up for the night, I once more found myself sitting at the table before the hearth of the tavern of The Prancing Pony, sipping quietly at a pint of honey ale, a plate of salted beef, cheeses and bread sat on the table in-front of me, slowly being picked at as the evening passed. I sat alone, for Barney and Betsy were both quite busy tonight, Barney had a full bar to serve while Betsy was rushing around with Carling and Farley trying to serve all the patrons who filled the tables around me.

Sitting there, absentmindedly listening to the conversations around me and taking a long sip of my ale, I wasn't paying much attention to any of the conversations until one particular conversation caught my attention rather suddenly.

"Do ya not find it strange, Rory, tha' in just a few months, we've now had two dwarves pass through Bree? Dwarves rarely pass through these parts anymore and now we've had two. Two!"

Turning my head slightly towards one of the tables set into the wall to my right, I picked up a piece of salted meat and nibbled on it, listening closely to this conversation between three elderly men.

"Oh aye, Graeme, tis a strange thing indeed. At least this one don't seem ta be bein' hunted like the last one. No price on her head like he had," The one named Rory said in a deep, gravelly voice, the tip of his pipe resting gently against his lips as he spoke.

'Hunted? A price on his head? A dwarf? They couldn't be talking about him, could they?' I thought to myself, my brow crinkling slightly in confusion.

"At least that ol' wizard ain't around these parts. Never did like that fella, I tell ya. Always up ta no good," The third man added, a hint of distaste creeping into his tone.

"I'm tellin' ya, Rory and Toby, no good can come of a dwarf and wizard meetin', no good at all. And now we've got anotha dwarf here. I don't like it. Not one bit," Graeme muttered angrily, his dark brown gaze quickly flickering over to see me popping some cheese into my mouth as I stared over towards Barney Butterbur behind the wood bar.

'Wizard? Gandalf what kind of meeting were you having here in Bree? And if my guess is right, why were you meeting with Thorin?' I thought once more, discreetly glancing over at the three men now known to me as Graeme, Rory and Toby, a thick cloud of pipe-weed smoke hanging over their table. 'And why have such a meeting in Bree? I don't understand.'

Deciding to turn in for the night, I quickly motioned for Betsy to come over, dropping a small pouch of coins into her hand, thanking her for the food and ale that night and offering a kind good night. Standing up from my chair I maneuvered my way through the crowds of the tavern before climbing the stairs and walking down the long narrow hallway before entering the second to last door on the right side of the hall, my room.

After stoking the dying embers of the fireplace in the room and adding a couple new logs so that the fire would last the night, I glanced around my room making sure that all of my belongings were still where I had left them that morning. It's not that I didn't trust Barney or Betsy or any of the workers here at The Prancing Pony, quite the opposite really, but some of the other travelers who stayed at the Inn were sometimes of the... unsavoury nature. After finding that everything was still in its proper place, I crawled beneath the thick grey wool blanket upon the bed and fell asleep with thoughts running wild with why Gandalf was in Bree a few months ago, why he might have been meeting with a dwarf I believed to be Thorin Oakenshield, and why Thorin himself would have been in these parts a few months past anyways.

* * *

On the third day, I once more woke early and enjoyed a breakfast of two boiled eggs, toast with raspberry jam, three thick slices of cheese and two pieces of maple smoked ham with a cup of chamomile tea all the while chatting away quite happily with Barney and Betsy. It was only once the conversation between us three quieted down did I decide to ask about what has been plaguing my mind since the night before.

"Master Barney, do ya mind if I ask ye a question or two?"

"Oh aye, my ol' friend, go ahead," Barney acknowledge with a slight bow of his head, his old pipe resting gently between his lips.

"Was Gandalf the Grey 'ere by chance a few months ago?"

Barney choked on the smoke from his pipe at my question, deep, chest rattling coughs racking his body while poor Betsy harshly pat against his back to try and help settle his coughs.

Once his small fit had settled down he answered, "Out of all the questions I thought ya'd ask, lass, that was the last one I thought would come from yer mouth. But ta answer yer question, aye, he was. Met with a dwarf he did."

"A dwarf? Who was this dwarf? What did 'e look like? Why did Gandalf want ta meet with 'im? What did they talk 'bout?" I queried, the questions tumbling from my mouth one after another as I leaned further over the table towards the two who sat on the opposite side of the table.

"Whoa now, not so quickly lass. The dwarf never stated his name nor his business 'ere in Bree, but there were whispers that it was a dwarf named Thronin I think-"

"Thorin? Was it Thorin? Was that 'is name?" I jumped in, startling the poor man for a second with the urgency in my voice.

"Yes, yes! Twas his name. Rumours 'ad it that his name was Thorin," Barney answered, tapping his pointer finger against the table top as he did so. 'So, my suspicions were right. Thorin was here in Bree and with Gandalf no less. But why would Thorin be out in these parts? He rarely leaves the Khagal'abbad anymore...' I thought to myself before continuing on questioning my old friend.

"And Gandalf met with 'im? What did they talk 'bout? What was the purpose o' their meetin?"

"I couldna tell ya less, I never heard for certain, but I did hear talk o' a mountain or somethin' o' the sort," Barney answered, a questioning glint entering his eyes as I froze up upon hearing his words.

"A mountain? Gandalf and a dwarf who's name may 'ave been Thorin met 'ere in Bree and may 'ave been talkin' 'bout a mountain?"

"Aye, twas what I heard lass. Why? What's it ta ya?" Barney replied slowly as he watched me lower my gaze to the worn table top, Betsy shifting a bit uneasily beside him.

Pausing for a moment, my mind running rampant with countless thoughts and even more questions then before, I shook my head before glancing back up to Barney and Betsy, an easy smile pulling at my lips as I replied, "Tis nothin' ta me, ol' friend. I merely 'eard a few o' yer patrons last night talkin' 'bout anotha dwarf and a wizard bein' in these parts in the last few months. Twas curious is all."

A few moments of silence passed between the three of us as Barney studied me carefully, trying to see if I was lying to him, but when he realized he could not tell if I was or was not lying to him, he relaxed his shoulders and gave me a small nod.

"Well, if tis all right with ye two, I tink I should be off ta the marketplace, I 'ave some tings ta pick up 'fore I leave in the morrow."

"Ya leavin' us so soon, ma friend?" Betsy asked, her hand reaching out and gently grabbing my forearm, her dark brown curls sweeping over her shoulder as she leaned forward.

Placing my slightly larger and rougher hand over her softer one, I gave it a gentle squeeze and offered her a warm smile before answering, "Aye, I'm afraid so, Mistress Betsy. I 'ave stayed 'ere long enough, tis time fer me ta be on me way."

"Then I'll make sure Ol' Ewan cooks ya up a nice tasty roast tonight, my dear," Betsy promised with a kind smile.

"And I'll be sure ta have a small barrel of yer favourite honey ale fer ya, lass," Barney added, offering me a warm smile as well.

Nodding my head in thanks, I took my hand off of Betsy's, which was still on my forearm before she lowered her hand gently back onto the table, and turned towards the door, walking out into the still quiet streets of Bree.

I spent the rest of the third day picking up what supplies I needed. Restocking my food supplies, stopping by the apothecary again and picking up healing herbs and bandages – still not quite believing that I had been foolish enough to leave the Iron Hills without any in the first place – before making a final stop off at Old Nan's Bakery and buying three delicious smelling meat pies as well as a few biscuits and loafs of bread.

Once I returned to The Prancing Pony, both Barney and Betsy Butterbur were true to their word and no sooner that I was sitting down in the same table in front of the hearth that I had occupied for the last few days then a plate of lovely rosemary flavoured roast beef and potatoes and a pint of honey ale were being set down before me by Farley.

I didn't stay in the tavern long that night, only long enough to finish my delicious meal and drink a few pints of ale before I was turning in for the night, wishing to get a good nights sleep before my journey began once more in the morning.

And sure enough, U'rakh had blessed me with a peaceful sleep that night for I woke before dawn on the fourth day feeling refreshed and ready to go. Looking through my pack and making sure that all of my spare clothes, food and supplies were all tucked away neatly inside, I tied the leather ties closed before swinging my warhammer's onto my back and securing the two throwing axes onto the same straps, I then moved on to securing my battle axes to my belt that wrapped around my midsection and slid the two throwing axes into their places at my hips. The two daggers in my bracers having never been removed during my time in Bree and neither had my throwing axes in my boots. In a town that saw its fair share of unsavoury people, one could never be too careful, especially a lass on her own.

Securing my cloak around my collarbone once more and slipping my pack onto my shoulders over top of my cloak, I glanced around the small room that had been my home for the last few days, making sure I had grabbed everything before leaving a few gold coins on the nightstand by the bed for the girls when they came to clean my room later in the day.

Walking out of my room and down the stairs I ate a large breakfast of two boiled eggs, three pieces of toast with blackberry jelly, two pieces of thick yellow cheese and four pieces of honeyed ham with a cup of herbal tea before wasting no time and walking over to the counter in the corridor leading in and out of The Prancing Pony and setting a small purse of coins by the old guest book laying on the counter. Turning and making my way towards the door, the tavern behind me was unusually quiet even this early in the morning, though the thick cloud of pipe-weed smoke still hung heavily in the air.

In just a few steps I had reached the old wooden door leading out into the streets of Bree. Just as my right hand was coming up to pull against the old steel handle, smoothed from countless people opening the door over the years, I heard a shout from behind me.

"Lass! Wait!"

Turning around, my gaze took in Barney Butterbur hurrying towards me around the corner of the bar, a fluttering piece of parchment held tightly in his left hand. Reaching me in just a few quick steps, the inn owner bent down onto one knee in-front of me, holding the piece of parchment out to me.

Huffing a bit from his hurried pace, my old friend paused a moment to catch his breath before saying, "Before ya leave lass, this is fer ya. Don't know where it came from, but it was on the counter by the guest book when I woke up this mornin'."

"Tank ya, Master Butterbur, that's very kind o' ya. And tank ya fer everythin' these last few days. As always, twas nice ta 'ave a warm bed at night and warm, home cooked food all day again. I swear Ol' Ewan cooks betta and betta the older 'e gets," I said, reaching out and taking the piece of parchment from his grasp with a warm smile and tucking it neatly into the pocket of my dark green cloak with my map.

"Yer always welcome here lass, tis always a pleasure havin' you here at The Prancing Pony. If ever ya are out this way again, don't be afraid ta stop in for an ale or a bed for the night, ya hear me?" Barney said, a kindhearted smile upon his face as he gently clasped my shoulder in his hand.

Clasping his shoulder in return, an equally kind smile upon my own face, I nodded and assured him, "O' course, my ol' friend, I wouldna dare travel through these parts o' the world and not pass through Bree. Take care o' yerself, my friend, I'll miss ya. And take care o' Betsy and little Barliman."

"Aye, I'll be sure ta do so. Betsy will be sad that she wasn't up ta see ya off this mornin', but little Barli was up all night screamin'. I'll be seein' ya next time our paths cross then, lass. Safe travels on ye."

And with that, the aging man stood up and watched as I walked through the door and out into the quiet streets of Bree, which were only just beginning to come alive with shop keeps and vendors preparing for the new day.

Making my way north along the lane, I veered off to the west at the first fork in the road traveling down the road before I soon came upon the West Gate of Bree, passing through the old wooden gate with a kind nod to the young Gatekeeper, who let me through without any questions only a warm smile, and continuing west upon the Great East Road.

It was nearly an hour outside of Bree before I dared to take the piece of parchment that Barney had given to me out and examine it, shock running through me as my eyes passed over the words scratched in black ink across the slightly tattered parchment.

' _Come to the meeting in the home of the akdâmuthrab_ _in Hobbiton of the Ramekhrumûkh on the 26_ _th_ _of April._

 _You will know the home when you see it._

 _-Tharkûn_ '

Shaking my head and quietly chuckling at the mysterious ways of my old friend, I set a small fire on the side of the road and burned the letter, for I had a feeling that this meeting was one of secrecy. Knowing I only had a few days to get to the Shire and find this particular Hobbit-hole – or Smials as the larger and wealthier Hobbit-holes were called if I remembered my teachings as a young dwarrow right – seeing as it was now the 21st of April, I stamped out the fire once the letter was properly burned before continuing west down the Great East Road and towards the Shire, quietly singing one of my own songs as I went:

 _Roads go ever ever on,_

 _Over rock and under tree,_

 _By caves where never sun has shone,_

 _By streams that never find the sea;_

 _Over snow by winter sown,_

 _And through the merry flowers of June,_

 _Over grass and over stone,_

 _And under mountains in the moon._

* * *

Finally, after five long days of traveling passed the borders of the Old Forest, over the Brandywine Bridge and through fields and fields of luscious green grass, I found myself in the rolling hills of the Ramekhrumûkh just after dawn on April the 26th, but I knew I still had quite a long day ahead of me. Continuing on down the Great East Road, I spent the rest of my day traveling through Whitfurrows of Bridgefields and Frogmorton of East Farthing, before turning north-west off the road and traveling up through the small village of Bywater, which was situated along a natural pool in the stream called The Water, and passed a small lively inn with a sign hanging out over the door that read, _Ivy Bush,_ which sat just on the southern shores of The Water pool. Eventually, I found myself coming along the path and right into the beginning of the village of Hobbiton. By this point it was now quite late into the evening and I was beginning to become a bit flustered, I wasn't overly fond of being late you see.

Knowing I had to find this Hobbit-hole soon, I didn't bother to stop at the large lively inn which had a wonderfully aged and weathered wooden sign hanging beside one large round brown door that read, _The Green Dragon_ , and above the lovely cursive writing of the sign was a beautiful carving of a green dragon of course, which sat upon the shores of another natural pool of The Water on the western end of the village. Instead I continued north over the small Bywater bridge before coming to a stop by a stone mill and looking out over the hills before me. Each of these luscious green hills were dotted with the doors of Hobbit-holes and even in the darkened sky, I could make out the beautiful oak trees and colourful gardens of the hobbits, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moon and the occasional warm yellow glow that shone brightly out of tiny Hobbit-hole windows in the sides of the hills.

I couldn't help myself but to pause for a moment and admire the sheer beauty and peacefulness that was the Ramekhrumûkh. Though I know that the halflings aren't too fond of the other races of Middle Earth, if the uneasy and at times outright glares that I had received from passing hobbits throughout the day was any clue. No, instead the gentle halflings preferred to keep to themselves, to their rolling hills, good tilled earth, pipe-weed, food and ale. Though, perhaps once this meeting was over I would be permitted by at least a few of the hobbits to spend some time here, admiring and learning about the peaceful lives of the halflings.

Bringing myself out of my own musings, I continued north along the clear dirt path, walking around The Water and traveling up a small hill. Along the way I passed a handful of Hobbit-holes, but none of which stood out to me. Though I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, I knew my friend and I knew his ways and I knew that when I found this particular Hobbit-hole, I would know just as he had said in his letter.

I continued on walking the neatly kept dirt paths of Hobbiton, walking upon a path that a road sign had called Bagshot Row which lead me up to a rather large hill that another road sign called The Hill, I passed one smaller Hobbit-hole at the bottom of The Hill before coming upon the crest of the path. As soon as I crested The Hill, I saw another Hobbit-hole and through the few round windows that I could see from the path, this one seemed to be filled with lots of activity.

Though that wasn't odd, from what I could tell of the hobbits in The Green Dragon the hobbits of the Ramekhrumûkh were more then capable of being just as loud and raucous as any of the other races of Middle Earth. No, what was odd or perhaps what stood out most about this particular Smial – as it was undoubtedly larger than the others that I had seen and seemed to be wealthier too if what few furnishings I could see through the windows suggested – was that on the round green door, even from all the way down on Bagshot Row where I still stood, I could make out a glowing dwarvish rune. Very odd to find a dwarvish rune upon a Smial door I would imagine.

Walking up the few stone steps that had been set into the earth many years before, I found myself upon the doorstep of this Smial, a rather large round green door standing before me with a round brass handle in the middle of the door and just below the handle was the strange dwarvish rune. Taking a closer look at the rune I quickly realized that it was an older rune which meant that a burglar is in search of a good job, plenty of excitement and a reasonable reward. Yes, this was indeed the Hobbit-hole that I was looking for.

Lifting my right hand up, I was just about to knock on the door when silence quickly fell upon the other side of the door, causing me to stop and pause in my movements. For a few heartbeats, there was no sound coming from inside the Smial when suddenly there was a loud, long burp being let out, quickly followed by loud and hearty cheers and applause. Chuckling, I knew that just behind this door was a group of at least a few dwarves and in amongst them somewhere was a hobbit.

Bringing my fist back, I loudly knocked upon the green wooden door four times before taking a small step back. Small droplets of rain began to fall from the dark clouds that had rolled in during my journey through Hobbiton and I found myself having to pull my hood up to protect me from the rain.

Silence once more fell upon the other side of the door for a few moments before there was suddenly the sound of many chairs being pushed back quickly and many sets of feet came rushing into the area just behind the door before all coming to a stop. Someone cleared their throat quietly just on the other side before the green door was suddenly swinging open into the Smial and I was met with the site of twelve dwarves, a wizard and a hobbit all staring at me.

"Oh, uh... He-hello-" The hobbit began to speak before being cut off by an older dwarf behind him with a great white beard that split into two before curving up at the ends.

"Mi targê! Bryndin, is that you, lass?"

"Evening Uncle, Da."

* * *

 **Translations:**

 **Hundshimrîn:** Dunland

 **Muthurzudnu:** Enedwaith

 **Imlêktharkh:** Tharbad

 **Mirdinhanadlibrîn:** Barrow Downs

 **Khagal'abbad:** Blue Mountains

 **U'rakh:** Khuzdul name for the Vala, Irmo, Lord of Dreams and Visions

 **Akdâmuthrab:** Burglar

 **Ramekhrumûkh:** Shire

 **Tharkûn:** Gandalf (literally, staff-man)

 **Mi targê!:** By my beard!

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! And happy holidays everyone! Chapter two is finally out and right on time. I seriously cannot believe I got this chapter out for you all for Christmas, I was really worried I wouldn't be able to do it, but I forced myself to get this out to you all as a holiday gift from me.

Hope you all enjoy this chapter! We spent a lot of time in this chapter in Bree, but we'll be coming back to Bree later so I had to build up our main characters time there. I changed a few things around in Hobbiton too, like the Ivy Bush and The Green Dragon, but I'm basing Hobbiton off of what we see in the movies, so I had to move The Green Dragon into the heart of Hobbiton. Other then that everything is really the same.

Oh! And I decided that for places in Khuzdul, I'll put the translations again at the bottom, same goes for a few other words, just so that you all don't have to go back through multiple chapters trying to find out what a word or saying is.

We finally have a name for our main character too! You'll all be properly introduced to her next chapter, don't you worry!

That's all for now, I'm afraid, but I'm wishing you all a very merry Christmas, a happy Hanukkah and a happy holidays to all of you! I'll likely see you all in the new year with chapter three. :)

Don't forget to check me out on Tumblr under the name **phoenix-rising29**

Cheers!


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